


The Greatest Glory

by silvermoongirl10



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Caring Porthos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode tag to 2x06, Gen, Hurt Aramis, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Porthos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermoongirl10/pseuds/silvermoongirl10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following on from 2x06, a worried Porthos cares for his injured best friend Aramis, thinking on how lucky they are for Aramis to still be with them.</p><p>The title comes from the quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson; “The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall”. I dunno why but I thought the quote just seemed to fit for Aramis following the events of 2x06.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Glory

**Author's Note:**

> I was so excited throughout the entire episode and I love the friendship between Aramis and Porthos. But this was the first time we had seen Aramis injured, BADLY ENOUGH that people just assumed he was DEAD, but there was nothing shown towards Aramis when it was clear he was alive just hurt. And I know some great stories have been posted following on from the episode, but I just wanted to add to it as my idea wouldn’t leave me alone despite all the uni work I have to do. Anyway I hope you enjoy reading this!

The mood was quite sombre on the return to Paris. D’Artagnan was riding close to the carriage so Constance could remain in his eye line (not really surprising as Constance had been very close in joining the courtiers in death). Athos and Treville were conversing quietly about the day’s events, Milady was riding at the back quietly fuming about the attitude of the King after she had brought a rescue party, and Porthos was riding close to Aramis and casting worried glances at his friend. Something wasn’t right with Aramis, granted he had been pushed out of a window, but it was something more. And Porthos didn’t know what it was but he was going to find out.

Despite Porthos assuring Rochefort that Aramis was alive, he had been internally screaming in worry and pain. Aramis had been pushed out of a _third floor window_. Despite knowing how stubborn his friend could be Porthos knew just as well as anyone, that if a person fell from that height they had no chance of survival. He had thrown enough criminals out of windows of similar heights to know.

When all he could do was watch as his best friend, his _brother_ , was pushed backwards out the window he saw the panic flash across Aramis’ face. That had also scared him. Aramis _never_ showed his panic. He always showed confidence, his way of bring comfort and confidence to the people they were helping. He never even showed his true hidden feelings of fear and panic with his closest friends, expect for when he was pulled so deeply back into horrific memories of a snow covered forest or when he discovered Adele’s death.

It had been horrible to even consider that the last time he would have seen Aramis would have been to see his panic stricken face disappearing out of a window. Despite being chained with Rochefort in the cellar and confidently stating that Aramis would be alright, all Porthos could imagine was finding Aramis’ body at the foot of the building. Still with the panicked look etched on his face with his eyes blown wide in shock. He knew if worst came to the worst, that memory would have taken centre stage over all the other, _happier_ , memories he had of Aramis. So he was beyond relieved when he saw Aramis walking towards him. _Alive_.

Now he looked back across at his friend and frowned seeing Aramis slumped in his saddle. His eyes were flickering and he looked beyond exhausted. So Porthos leaned closer and quietly murmured, “Not long until we’re back in Paris.”

Aramis suddenly shot up right and shook himself and threw Porthos a wide grin, “I’m fine my friend. No need for you to be concerned.” Others may have been fooled but Porthos was not. The grin was fake. Its purpose to prevent Porthos from worrying. Too bad Porthos knew Aramis just as well as he knew himself.

“Hmm. _Right_ ” scoffed Porthos, “You’re the picture of _fine_.”

“Porthos” sighed Aramis,

“No! Don’t. _You fell out of a window three floors up_! So do _not_ tell me you are fine!” hissed Porthos.

Aramis looked taken aback, then after a pause he just looked down at his hands and remained silent. Porthos sighed at a loss of what to say. Aramis was the talker, he could charm the oldest lady, calm any man and soldier and comfort the youngest child. Aramis was the one who knew what to say in any circumstance, he was just the one that took action.

Thankfully they had arrived at the garrison. Treville stating that himself, Athos and d’Artagnan would continue onto the Palace, leaving Porthos to help Aramis sort out his injuries. It showed that something wasn’t right with Aramis, when he didn’t argue that he was fine and could continue riding to the Palace.

They entered the courtyard and Porthos immediately swung himself out of the saddle and passed the reigns to Jacques the stable boy, just in time to witness Aramis swing from his saddle to the ground. Aramis’ knees began to buckle and he would have hit the floor if Porthos hadn’t been there to catch him.

Jacques stared at them as he held onto the two sets of reigns. Not noticing Aramis’ horse nuzzle his pockets as he worriedly asked, “is Aramis alright?”

Porthos smiled, “He’s just a little hurt, he’ll be fine in no time lad.”

Jacques nodded and then led the two horses away. Porthos then began to half carry half drag Aramis up to his room.

“You just had to have a room up on the forth floor didn’t you?” huffed Porthos,

“What’re you complainin’ ‘bout?” mumbled Aramis tiredly, “I’m the one tha’ has t’ carry _you_ up ‘ere when you’re drun’.”

“Fair point” conceded Porthos, seeing as he had the room across from Aramis, he shouldn’t be one to complain. Aramis had indeed had to carry him up here more times than he could count. Due to either being drunk or injured.

Aramis never got so drunk that someone had to carry him back to his room, and it had been about two years since he’d last gotten injured (minus a couple of scratches).

Porthos pulled Aramis over to the chair beside the fireplace and took off Aramis’ leathers. He then proceeded to shake them out; little glass shards skittered across the floor a few feet away from them. Aramis just stared at them, before checking to see if there were any more bits of glass beneath his shirt. Happy that there wasn’t Aramis leaned back in his chair and sighing closed his eyes. Porthos swept the shards of glass into a pile and placed them on a table out of the way. Then he walked over to Aramis and lightly tapped his friend’s face.

“What?” groaned Aramis, Porthos could see that Aramis was beginning to fade fast.

“I need to tend to the cuts on your face and arms” he replied, then seeing the mangled mass that was Aramis’ hair added, “Also your hair needs a wash. Don’t want you going to sleep with glass still in your hair.”

Aramis nodded and quietly let Porthos tend to the cuts on his face and arms while he dozed in the chair. Thankfully none of the cuts needed stitches. But then they came to his hair. Which, when looking closer, was tangled with bits of glass and matted with dried blood. Porthos collected a bowl of warm water and had Aramis lean over it, then with a cup he scooped water over Aramis’ head and using his other hand he gently untangled the hair and glass. This took about twenty minutes and thankfully no stiches were needed, they were all just small cuts that had bled a lot. Porthos found a towel and gently dried Aramis’ hair. Once he had returned from emptying the bowl of water and getting rid of the bits of glass he found Aramis bracing himself against the wall beside his window.

“Not thinking of jumping out of another window are you?” he asked, trying to cover up the worry in his voice that the day’s events had caused.

Aramis tilted his head towards him. “No” he smiled, “Just thinking about how lucky I was to have landed on the awning.”

Porthos shuddered thinking about how it was just blind luck that had kept Aramis from death. “You had me scared there.”

There was no need to explain what Porthos meant by ‘there’, they both knew what he meant.

“I’m sorry,” said Aramis, “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t” interrupted Porthos softly as he stepped closer until he was stood beside Aramis and looking his friend in the eye. “I know you didn’t mean to make us worry. But you’re our brother Aramis, the amount that you worry for us is the amount we worry for you.”

Aramis smiled in response and then it faded away as he sighed and turned back to the view outside his window.

“What?” questioned Porthos as he laid a hand on Aramis’ shoulder.

“It’s just…when I regained consciousness…a crow was pecking at me…” came the quiet response.

Porthos paused in thought for a moment. Then it clicked. “You thought of Savoy.” That explained Aramis being out of sorts.

Aramis titled his head with an unreadable look in his eyes, “Slightly, but mostly it just made me think of death. Wherever there is death, there are always crows… I’m beginning to really hate crows.”

Porthos chuckled, “I think farmers would agree with you there.” After a pause he then added, “It’s all alright Aramis. Everything’s fine.” He didn’t know who he was convincing; Aramis, or himself. Perhaps the both of them.

Aramis nodded with a slight smile on his face, then he broke out into a huge yawn.

“Come on” smiled Porthos fondly, “You should get some rest.”

“You’re right” nodded Aramis, stretching, he then smirked, “It takes a lot of effort to be pushed out of a window.”

Porthos raised an eyebrow as he guided Aramis over to his bed; he then stopped Aramis and seriously commented, “Just don’t scare me like that again. For a while there I thought I’d lost you. And I can’t lose anyone else.”

Aramis smiled comfortingly as he rested a hand on Porthos’ arm. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Good” nodded Porthos, “I wish Rochefort hadn’t got to Marmion first.”

“Yes then perhaps we would be back in favour with the King,” commented Aramis dryly.

“There is that” admitted Porthos, “But most importantly I had promised him that I was going to kill him for pushing you out of the window. And you know I like keeping my promises.”

Aramis grinned, “Ah a promised death threat! I really did have you worried!”

“Shut up!” chuckled Porthos, as he playfully (and gently) pushed a laughing Aramis onto his bed. “Get some rest you idiot.”

Porthos then turned to the nearby chair and heavily sat in it keeping watch over Aramis as his brother drifted off to sleep. Aramis was sleeping peacefully so Porthos found his eyes drooping and before he knew it he was deeply asleep.

So when Athos and d’Artagnan came to check on Aramis they found both of their friends sleeping soundly. D’Artagnan went to Porthos’ room and found a blanket, which he draped over Porthos and Athos gently, tucked Aramis under his own blankets. After checking that Aramis was truly unharmed he moved to the window and closed the shutters blocking out most of the harsh sunlight that remained of the day. They then left their friends sleeping comfortably in each other’s presence.

**The End.**


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